Alexander Semenov Continues To Photograph The Earth’s Most Fragile Marine Wildlife Near The Arctic

NGC 5189: An unusually complex planetary nebula

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.the truth is out there

Them life goals

Stray Child sky, clouds

more art by straychild

gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining

because we as a species were so lonely and we wanted friends so bad, we wanted to meet other species and we wanted to talk to them and we wanted to learn from them and to stop being the only people in the universe

and we started realizing that things were maybe not going so good for us— we got scared that we were going to blow each other up, we got scared that we were going to break our planet permanently, we got scared that in a hundred years we were all going to be dead and gone and even if there were other people out there, we’d never get to meet them

and then

we built robots?

and we gave them names and we gave them brains made out of silicon and we pretended they were people and we told them hey you wanna go exploring, and of course they did, because we had made them in our own image

and maybe in a hundred years we won’t be around any more, maybe yeah the planet will be a mess and we’ll all be dead, and if other people come from the stars we won’t be around to meet them and say hi! how are you! we’re people, too! you’re not alone any more!, maybe we’ll be gone

but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?

the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.

and they told us to tell you hello.

*is in the manga section of the bookshop* *sees another person* HAHA! what a nerd

midwestern vampires who smoke clove cigs in church parking lots and try to ignore their hunger pains as they watch students from the college in the next town over stumbling out of local bar, alcohol in their bloodstream

midwestern demons with yellow eyes and bloody teeth walking along deserted highways in the early hours of the morning, their pupils reflecting the headlights of cars with passengers who feel fear grip their hearts as they pass by

midwestern witches who wear muddy boots and garage sale rings and who always carry salt in their bags, who drink river water and pour circles of whiskey on the underbrush and feel hundreds of hands on their skin

midwestern ghosts who dwell in the basements of abandonned farmhouses and rip old wallpaper from the decaying walls with misty fingers and trancelike eyes